January, particularly in the Midwest, has a way of bringing the mayhem to a jarring, sometimes snow-covered halt. With its promise of do overs, start overs, and leave the past behind, January beckons with a new month and year. We don’t just flip over the calendar page, we begin with a fresh page on a new calendar.

An entire year stretches out before us with mystery, promises, possibilities and that difficult and elusive commitment to make this the year of improvement and changes. Wisdom calls for the healthier lifestyle to begin before a medical emergency makes it a catastrophic necessity. Some of us maintain our cars with more care and diligence than we do our bodies. Whatever our less than stellar habits, we can always do better. We may not eradicate all the negative effects of poor choices, but we can certainly improve our situation.

Mention healthy choices and the word exercise lights up in our minds followed by a grimace and feeling of guilt. Why is vigorous movement for a sustained period of time so difficult? Myriad studies emphasize the necessity of physical exercise. Still we procrastinate or simply refuse to heed the advice. Easier to pop a pill trying to compensate for our sedentary lifestyle. But no pill works magic. We’re designed to stretch, bend, move, and get going. If we refuse, we suffer the consequences.

Then there’s the issue of food, which is the nemesis for many of us. Calories, carbs, fat grams, reduced fiber, saturated fat, trans fat, cholesterol producing morsels distort food, originally designed to fortify and nourish, beyond recognition. We’ve fried, stacked, oversized, and added sauce and supplements so we barely remember the original item. Those once nutritious vittles are now stripped of their original nutrients and cause us to be larger than ever but often mal-nourished. A back to basics approach could lessen our girth and remedy many of our ailments. We’re adaptive by nature, although healthy eating takes some getting used to. It’s not that we can’t, but that we won’t or we don’t.

In addition to our physical well-being, there’s the emotional and spiritual tranquility we’re hoping to discover. After the heightened frenzy of the previous months, January and February offer respite and opportunities to discover and/or enhance our bodies and souls. Some folks live their lives always starting over, but failing to sustain good intentions. It’s challenging knowing what to minimize and when to maximize. We can read endless literature and latest studies, but sometimes the best approach is to simplify. Walk away from the buffet bonanza and out the door for a walk. Half-pound burgers with special sauce accompanied by fries will never be the healthy entrée, but living well will always provide the ultimate in satisfaction and contentment.

Eat less, move often, love much, pray more, and follow the path for which we were created. Invite family and friends along on the journey. We’re social creatures searching for joy, peace, and fulfillment. May this New Year overflow with all that is good.

Yes, I know you’re a very busy man in December and probably wondering why a woman my age would be writing you a letter. Sentimentality for one reason and a genuine fondness for the season is another. You charmingly represent that which is good in society. You’re for all ages, just watch seniors at a nursing home delight in your presence, and amid turmoil and discontent in the world, you help take the edge off the unrest.

As a child, my belief in Santa was low key because my parents never used you as a motivator for good behavior. The nuns in school were plenty busy motivating us. You were the magic and wonder of Christmas. I knew full well the story of the birth at Bethlehem, and there was never any disconnect between faith and you. We decorated the house with both a manger scene and Santa Claus, and the décor reflected a peaceful, meaningful co-existence. To this day, my holiday keepsakes are a mix of sacred and secular.

And when I learned the truth about you, it never affected my belief in God. I thought you were still wonderful, and was pleased to be privy to the inside scoop about your existence. Playing Santa for my own children and for folks who need a boost in life makes me appreciate you even more. We all need to believe in the goodness and generosity that you represent.

Christmas is one of the few events that invite us to celebrate with child-like excitement and joy. Being Santa’s helper allows us to personally experience proof that it is more blessed to give than receive. Watching a child, teen, or an 80-year-old overcome with giddiness as they open a gift they wanted but never expected to receive is joy beyond measure.

Maybe it’s easy for you, Santa, since you have Mrs. Claus and those energetic elves helping, but gift requests seem so complicated today with all the technology gadgets. I miss the simplicity of dolls and trucks and easy to understand toys and board games. I know it’s imperative to change with the times, and I’m trying. Grandchildren help nicely with the transition.

With your lengthy to-do list, I have to wonder how you manage so well. We often get bogged down by the details and miss the essence of Christmas. Perhaps you could share your time management skills with us in the off-season.

When you’re filling the stockings, Santa, please super size measures of good will, peace, and gratitude. Greed and envy often manifest their ugliness during the holidays. Too much trying to keep up or out do, and too little gratitude for blessings we enjoy even though we don’t necessarily deserve them. A visit to a hospital or nursing home reminds us immediately that material goods alone will never bring happiness. Sharing time and resources with others, especially those most vulnerable and struggling, can provide positive effects for a lifetime for the giver and receiver.

For all the inspiration you’ve provided for us through the years, Santa, thank you. May we always believe in the magic of love and share the peace and good will that is Christmas! Hope you enjoy the new cookie recipe we tried this year.

Love,

From a Grateful Grandma

For high school graduation, my parents gifted me with an outstanding opportunity. My sister and her husband were stationed in the Philippine Islands with their two children. My parents gave me a train ticket to San Francisco and a cruise ticket to Manila. It was a bold move on their part as I wasn’t exactly an adventurous sort. But my mother valued independence, and I’m sure she knew the trip would be transforming, and provide much more than sightseeing.

I remember so well planning and anticipating. About three weeks after receiving my diploma, I was west coast bound. My parents drove me to the train station with close friends following. I remember my dad giving the porter a generous tip to “watch over” me. I also remember him telling me goodbye with tears in his eyes. Life lessons began before the train left the station.

The cruise stopped in Honolulu, Okinawa, Hong Kong, and Manila. The first few days I was miserable with seasickness and homesickness. I wanted desperately to abandon ship and planned to when we docked in Hawaii. When we finally arrived, my stomach had adjusted to the ship’s rhythm, and my heart was loving the mystique of a cruise. It was a spectacular three weeks.

The world was incredibly interesting to this 18-year-old who yearned for more travel. The next year I began working for Ozark Airlines. While the airline was a regional carrier, it provided outstanding travel benefits that included other airlines and I took full advantage. Seven years later my airline career was exchanged for motherhood as the first of our three children arrived. My husband also worked for Ozark so travel benefits continued. Our children flew on a plane before riding a bus, and we introduced them to the delights of new places.

Traveling was limited when they were growing up. Between work schedules and school schedules, it was difficult planning trips, but we did our best. Our goal wasn’t to show them the world, but to create in them a desire to see it.

Eight years ago two good friends introduced us to the fun of traveling via a cruise ship. A new experience for my husband and one much different from my inaugural cruise in 1966. Travel, like many experiences in life, can be enjoyed at bargain prices if one is determined, pays attention to detail, and is open for adventure. We’ve cruised with friends, with our adult children, and with just the two of us. All provide much enjoyment.

Most recently we visited Italy and Croatia and I’m hoping to return. To safeguard such plans, I threw coins in the Trevi Fountain in Rome. It worked in 1968, and I’m trusting it will again. (Legend has it that throwing coins in the Fountain will assure a return trip.)

When I return home, memories from what I’ve seen and done are savored for years.  The minute details don’t always stay with me. I wish it were otherwise, but alas, time is not making it easier to recall numerous incidentals. It doesn’t deter me from traveling, but I try always to have good back up. My husband excels at remembering what I don’t. We’re a good team.

Living and working in Chicago was my dream as a young adult. It never happened, and for a while, I mourned that unfulfilled dream. Later I realized my incompatibility with a big city. I’ve never lived anywhere but in the Peoria/Bartonville area, but I’ve visited many unique places. Such wonderful opportunities await the eager traveler!

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” St. Augustine

As a faithful fan of self-help articles and books, I’m no slouch in the create your own journal endeavors often recommended to encourage self-improvement. Many folks have silently answered the “what I know now that I wish I knew then” statement. Discovering the better choice is easier when looking back at a situation. Sometimes the right words or actions are glaringly clear only after some time has elapsed.

Libraries and bookstores carry a variety of “Life’s Little Instruction Books” on varying themes. Oprah writes a monthly column about what she knows for sure, and Dr. Phil is posed with answers for complicated questions. Sometimes solutions reside in our own hearts if we take time to consider the options.

An early morning walk along the Riverfront afforded me the following considerations. My credentials are quite simple, an advanced degree in personal experience. Learning from others can be more comfortable then having to make all the mistakes yourself. It’s this writer’s hope that others can benefit from the “things I’ve learned along the way.”

Accept the fact that some situations and options negate others or at the least, make them more difficult. If you choose to be a workaholic, you may climb the corporate ladder quickly, but you’ll miss considerable family life and fun along the way. If perfection in every detail is your primary goal, you’ll likely find yourself frustrated by myriad imperfections in life.

Self-knowledge is essential. Determine what’s important to you and strive to achieve it.  Sounds obvious but some never take the time to figure out their goals. Whatever you wish to achieve – financial security, family togetherness, a dream home in the woods, plan accordingly and realize dreams don’t happen immediately. They arrive in increments, usually after careful consideration and considerable work.

Change is absolutely inevitable. Loved ones, society or circumstances sometimes force the changes. There are few absolutes, but decide what yours are and then learn to be flexible with the rest. Just because something is new and different doesn’t mean it’s better but advertising gurus want you to believe otherwise. And just because something has always been done a certain way doesn’t mean there isn’t another way. Learn to adapt.

Embrace what you believe, and make your beliefs a source of inspiration for enhancing your spiritual journey and for helping others. Don’t let your beliefs be a reason to be judgmental or condemning of others. Know what you believe and why.

Be grateful. Instead of counting all that’s lacking in your life, focus on all the positives.

It’s foolish not to plan for the future, but remember to savor the present.

Save your opinions until you’re asked for them. You may be a very wise person with many insights, but wait until you’re asked before sharing your wisdom.

Reduce your expectations which is far different from settling. Do not assume others will respond as you would.

Much knowledge can be acquired on life’s paths. Hopefully it continues growing as we should never quit learning. Or searching.

When I was in grade and high school, my Dad insisted once the 4^th of July was over, summer picked up speed. That meant I’d be back in a classroom much before I was ready. True about the school situation, but I disagreed with his perceived notion about time. Even though I thought the world of my Dad, I was sure his calculations were skewed. When I was growing up, school didn’t begin until after Labor Day so in July summer was still promising endless opportunities for fun and leisure. His perspective was much different from mine although I’ve learned that time goes by much faster for an adult than a child. This year is half over already and we wonder where it went. And more importantly, what did we do with all those hours and days?

Time is an equal opportunity commodity. It has no regard for income, status, family situations, personal beliefs, or one’s individual wisdom. Everyone is gifted with the same 24 hours each day. The disparity is only in how many of those days we are each allowed. If anyone doubts the mystery of life, one needs only to try and determine how much time is allotted each individual. We’re told at an early age that life is not fair, or if we’re not told, we figure it out after a few skirmishes and disappointments. Accepting the inevitability of such unfairness is a different matter. A brief look at a week’s worth of newspaper obituary notices is silent testimony to the inequality, or some might say unfairness, of the time each person is given.

The other kicker is we don’t find out, often until it’s much too late to change our course of direction, how much time we’ve been allotted. Some folks who enjoy reckless behavior believe firmly in the “when it’s your time” way of thinking. Others adhere to following a faith-filled path, and some believe it’s all a matter of chance. The belief systems, many would say, aren’t as important as the course of action. Dying isn’t optional; living to the fullest is and details are very individualized.

Some people vehemently denounce gambling, and yet many life choices, particularly financial ones, involve gambling in some form. Do I wait till I’m 66 to begin collecting Social Security or do I cash in at 62? If I think longevity is in my favor, it’s better to wait till later to start asking Uncle Sam for money. Insurance products are gambles, granted ones requiring more intelligence and forethought than the lottery or a slot machine, but still a gamble. We’ve all wasted time and resources “gambling” on the chance that there’s always tomorrow.

Some would propose that summer is not designed for reflective questions about the inevitabilities of life and death. Perhaps not, although sunny skies, beautiful blossoms, vibrant green grass and leaves, and the anticipation of vacations and family gatherings may be the best time to consider the directions of our life’s journeys. It’s best to sort through options when conditions are optimal. I’m grateful to have lived long enough to know that all seasons go by very quickly. Some individual days are long but the months and years go by in rapid succession. My Dad knew that years ago, as do I now.

Regardless of how much love a mother exudes for her child, at some point she utters or shouts the infamous maternal battle cry:  “I hope someday you have a child just like you.” If that child later becomes a parent, it’s guaranteed those words will someday ring loud and long in his or her memory. But by then the mother who was waiting for the thrill of revenge is a grandmother and grandmas aren’t into such negativity. They might resurrect a few colorful details now and again to embellish a story, but the emotional upheaval is finished and put to rest.

I find myself sympathetic to my daughter’s plight. It’s tough being a mom, tougher yet being a good mom and my daughters unquestionably excel as mothers. Much is written and discussed about the benefits of being a grandma. The superlatives are all true and then some. As much as I love my son and two daughters, I find grandchildren a beautiful example of unconditional love. I’m not responsible for their behavior, and I don’t derive my self-worth from them. I can enjoy them and share varied activities and events with them, but I don’t have to worry about the myriad details that parents must consider. When we’re together, it’s like being on vacation. We toss aside schedules and rigidity and drink lemonade out of fancy cups and pretend we’re high society. It’s a great life.

While I’m interacting with my grandchildren, I often wish my parents were alive to see them. They’d derive as much enjoyment from the conversations and antics as I do. One of the trade-offs for having great parents is having to accept the fact that they’ll always be missed. When I think of them it’s often with a sense of wanting to see them again, and much gratitude for all they taught me. My mother insisted I learn to be independent. As a child, I wasn’t interested in those lessons, but as a parent I stressed independence with my children. And I’m thankful my grandchildren are taught it as well.

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are wonderful opportunities to celebrate our parents. It’s also appropriate to remember how important it is for young parents to hear kind words and sincere compliments. Parenting is difficult. Encouragement helps.

My granddaughters are only five so it’s much too soon to tell their mothers (my daughters) that someday justice will be theirs. I hope and pray to be around for that verbal exchange!

Sentimentality is my specialty.  Mention a song, an event, a funny incident, and my memory wheels are rolling at top speed. As I get older, I often share the trivia floating in my mind that makes for interesting conversation but is rather superfluous. (I’d gladly trade up for some technology know-how, but alas, deal making isn’t optional.)

Each year on my children’s birthdays I reminisce about their birth and childhood. Now I do the same with our three grandchildren. I recall my parents’ special days with great fondness and many happy memories. Every April I reminisce about our wedding anniversary. Each year is a significant milestone but this year is particularly meaningful as we celebrate our 40^th. When we were first married, I remember being genuinely concerned about what we would find to talk about each night at dinner. Mealtime conversation was important to me and I was sure we’d run out of topics. We never did.  Three children in three years livened up many meals. Sometimes we wondered if we’d ever have opportunities for adult conversation or the pure joy of silence.

Forty years covers much territory: the ordinary, the wonderful, the challenging, and occasionally the sublime. A quote by an unknown author says: “Coming together is a beginning; staying together is progress; working together is success.” Marriage is work although we often romanticize it beyond recognition. Staying together wasn’t difficult but three teenagers in varying degrees of hormone havoc at the same time invited some speculation about the thrill of leaving. We’ve worked together through job changes, parents’ deaths, financial challenges, health issues, and an empty nest. I’ve learned life is a continual process of adapting gracefully while recognizing the silver linings. Most of what I worried about happening didn’t. Sometimes it’s in the looking back that we recognize blessings we overlooked at the time.

We’re taught the importance of marrying the right person.  Being the right person is also important. Romance is multi faceted and includes more than Hollywood scripts. It’s about doing dishes together or holding hands or meatloaf by candlelight for dinner. It’s about not keeping track but always keeping your word. It’s integrity and commitment and having fun together.  It’s being grateful for 40 shared years and hoping for 40 more. It’s knowing we’re not necessarily perfect for each other, but we’d do it all over again. Marriage is one of love’s finest dimensions. We have much to celebrate!

Neighborhood House is located at 1020 S. Matthew Street. The not for profit agency has delivered over a million meals since the program’s inception in 1971. Meals on Wheels is possible through funding from Heart of Illinois United Way, Central Illinois Agency on Aging, state and federal grants, private pay participants, and the generosity of private and participant donors. The program provides nutritious meals for folks unable to provide their own because of poor health, inability to shop or prepare food, and other difficulties. The program is much more than a hot lunch meal. It’s about care and concern that extend beyond noontime. For some meal recipients, their driver may be the only person they see that day and many other days. Even though the driver’s visit is brief, it provides comfort. That’s where Ron excels.

This past February underscored delivery challenges and drivers’ dedication.  I joined Ron for a portion of his route with a wind and chill advisory in effect.  Snow and ice compounded the weather challenge. His route has 51 stops. Both streets and sidewalks were slippery making food and milk delivery even more difficult.

Our first stop involved carefully pulling into a backyard makeshift “driveway” covered with ice and surrounded by trees. The walkway was treacherous. Not a job for a novice.  “Even the watchdog doesn’t bother me,” says Ron. “He’s so used to me.” Dogs can often be an added peril to any delivery job, but for Ron, their barking is more greeting than warning.

He drives a 1994 Dodge van. “My wife and kids tell me to get a different one, but why do I want to do that? It runs fine.  Very dependable.” The interior sports duct tape and the door creaks upon opening and closing, but such minor details don’t deter Ron.

He cheerfully greets every person answering the door, calling them by name and inquiring about their well-being. People are genuinely happy to see him.  Even the neighbors greet him warmly. While he waits for one woman to answer, he sweeps snow off her front steps. He knows details of people’s lives including their struggles, and when he can help, he does.  From opening the drapes for one woman, bringing in mail for another, inquiring about family, taking letters to mail or bringing in the morning paper, he does his best to brighten their lives. He knows who needs an extra bit of attention, who’s having added health problems, and who has an appointment on a given day. He talks about the importance of family support, explaining there are folks on his route who have little.

Ron is generous and softhearted and even when he senses some people might improve their circumstances with some serious effort, he never judges. He offers encouragement and optimism. “I get more out of this than they do,” he says humbly and gratefully. Delivering meals is not a lucrative job.  “Nobody does this for the money,” he says cheerfully.

At 71, Ron is older than some of his meal recipients. He’s grateful for his health and mobility. He and his wife, Carol, are the parents of 8, one son is deceased, and the grandparents of 17. Retirement isn’t ruled out, but it’s not a priority yet. Ron still has meals to deliver and people to help. His life is blessed with a sense of mission for the people in it and the work he does.

Even now I remember the show as excellent, romantic, and sad. And yes, along with millions of others, I still remember the famous or infamous line, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” At the time I thought the line was incredibly romantic. After learning more about genuine love, I realized the line was lame and appealed only to the naive.

Last year Oprah’s show featured the movie’s top stars for a reunion and retelling of the story. The clips they showed enticed me to rent the movie and see if the same attraction still lingered. Finding a copy at a video store was not easy. The lines of people from 40 years ago wanting to see it have shortened to a select person or two wanting to reminisce. After considerable phone calls, I located a copy in East Peoria.

Ali and Ryan were as charming and attractive as I remembered. It’s a bit difficult reading a book or viewing a film from “younger days,” and not seeing it with jaded eyes. Watching a story that I once thought was so romantic and passionate unfold four decades later is a good way to recall my thoughts and feelings from my youth. That’s not always simple so many years later when today’s hot topics often center around social security, the economy, and AARP. Sometimes those romantic stories from years ago seem dated and trivial. I miss enjoying them with love struck eyes and heart.

Society hurries everything along in today’s world of instant messaging and faster is better. Less than 48 hours after Santa Claus made his way back to the North Pole, many store shelves were sporting Valentine gifts and candy. Whoa! We just finished the season of giving and sharing, and we’re moved right on to love and romance. Ah, love doesn’t move so quickly. Infatuation does, and it’s a challenge making the distinction between the two. I grew up believing that love “happens” and doesn’t require much beyond an occasional touch with the nitty gritty of reality. Often more attention is focused on a wedding then a marriage. The former lasts a partial day; the latter can last a lifetime.

I miss believing that love alone can compensate for no money, family alienation, and life in a tiny rented apartment. And that was before illness entered the Love Story scenario. It’s pure pleasure rewatching movies from my youth and trying to recapture the appeal. It’s quite another matter living the romance and passion throughout changes, disappointments, and the continual challenge of rearranging priorities and promises.  Sometimes “I’m sorry” is the best response, especially when you’re living your own Love Story.